“You’ve put on some muscle since juvie.” Winters squeezes my shoulders. “Though I always preferred you skinny. Easier to handle.”
His fingers brush my hair, and my stomach rolls.
“We had a good system, didn’t we? I was so sad when I got transferred and had to leave my boy behind,” he says with a fondness that makes my skin crawl. “You were such a quick learner. It made all the others pale in comparison.”
Cold sweat breaks out across my forehead, trickling down my temple to the floor. The tremors I tried to hold back take over, starting in my fingertips and radiating up my arms. I hate this weakness, thisphysical submission that happens without my permission.
“Nothing to say?” Winters tuts, circling back into my field of vision. “You used to be so vocal. I remember every sound.”
Staying silent won’t save me. It never did. Every time I tried to disappear into myself, he just worked harder to drag me back, to force me to acknowledge what was happening.
“Fuck you.” The words scrape out of my throat, raw and sharp.
His eyebrows lift in surprise, then pleasure. “There he is. I was worried I’d broken that spirit.”
“You should be dead,” I spit, each word carrying years of suppressed rage. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.”
“But you didn’t,” he counters. “Too scared. Too weak. Just like always.”Anger flares, and I use it to fuel my next shift toward the table. Almost within reach, if only I could get my hands free.
“No one believed you, even when you told that counselor. Some people are just born victims.” He draws in a deep breath along my throat. “They can sense it about you.”
My teeth grind together so hard my jaw aches. “Isthat why you need ropes to talk to me? Afraid you can’t handle me now that I’m all grown up, big man?”
“Always running that mouth when you should be using it for better things.” The taunt draws him around to my front, his pupils dilating with a hunger I remember. “But that’s the fun part, isn’t it? Breaking you down again. Teaching you your place.”
I twist my wrists within their binds, my blood slicking the rough threads.
“You never escaped me, not really.” His voice drops lower, intimate and vile. “I’ve been living in your head all these years.”
I jerk my head forward, aiming for his nose, and he laughs as he moves backward. I use the same motion to hide the hard yank on my wrist, and I bite the inside of my cheek to stifle the pain as my skin rips, my hand sliding free from the rope.
“Tell me,” he chuckles. “When that pretty Rockford boy fucked you, did you think of me?”
“Every day,” I purr. “I think about all the ways I should have killed you.”
His hand shoots out, grabbing my chin with bruising force. “Still pretending to be tough, but you turn into a little bitch the moment I apply pressure.”
A scream cracks through the air, and I flinch, myhead jerking toward the hall where Darrow took Gabriel.
“Sounds like they’re already having fun.” Winters rises to his feet, reaching for me. “Let’s move you somewhere more comfortable. That couch should do.”
As Winters grabs my arm, his fingers digging into my bicep with bruising force, I keep my freed hand hidden. Another scream echoes from down the hallway, and rage burns through my veins.
“Don’t fight me,” Winters grunts as he hauls me upward. “This always ends the same.”
I lean into him, letting him think he’s controlling my movements while I angle my free hand toward the table.
“That’s it,” he says with a sickening coo. “You remember how to behave.”
His hand slides to my neck, thumb tracing my pulse point, and the touch sends ice through my veins.
“You’re going to be a good boy for me.” He starts to lead me toward the couch, away from the table.
Now or never.
I lurch to the side, flinging my body toward the dining table with every ounce of strength I possess. The rope around my torso restricts the movement,cutting into my ribs, but desperation fuels me past the pain. Winters curses, yanking me back, but my fingers scramble along the underside of the table.
The knife. Where’s the fucking knife?
